


5 Times Stiles Didn't Think, And 1 Time He Didn't Have To

by BulletBlaze



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Arguing, Awkward Boners, College Student Stiles, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, What's new, and a lil frustrated, and kinda amused, deal with him, derek is impulsive and protective, derek is very confused, just a lil though, or make v brief appearances, others are mentioned - Freeform, some blood, stiles does before he thinks, stiles' roommate's name is brad and he is lame but an essential plot point so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 02:51:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13137546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BulletBlaze/pseuds/BulletBlaze
Summary: Stiles' methods of keeping the supernatural world a secret from his roommate all somehow involve pretending to date Derek.





	5 Times Stiles Didn't Think, And 1 Time He Didn't Have To

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tabbytabbytabby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabbytabbytabby/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [5 раз, когда Стайлз не подумал, и 1 раз, когда ему не пришлось](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13162821) by [LonelyLikeACastaway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonelyLikeACastaway/pseuds/LonelyLikeACastaway)



> I know I said I wasn't going to write any more fanfic for a long time. I know.  
> But a few months is kind of a long time, right?  
> Anyway, I was reading tabby's stuff and decided I wanted to write them something because they're so awesome, and this is what happened.  
> Enjoy?

1.

College was not what Stiles was expecting. Or, rather, not what he was hoping. Sure, the break from constant danger and rest from the overwhelming anticipation of pain and death was nice, but without the consistent excitement- however unpleasant- of Beacon Hills, the life of one collegiate Stiles Stilinski was… boring. 

The most exciting thing he'd done all week was get into an argument with his philosophy professor. It's not that he was complaining, he just-

Okay, yeah, he was complaining.

But at least his roommate wasn't a total dick, which was always a possibility. It was, of course, upsetting that his lifelong dream of rooming with Scott couldn't happen- not with Scott going to UC Davis and Stiles getting a scholarship two hours away- but he could've ended up with a total dickwad.

Instead, his roommate’s name was Brad and he was going into accounting. His favorite food was bread and he thought Star Wars was overrated. 

So, no, he wasn't a fuckwipe, but he wasn't exactly Han fucking Solo, either. And he wasn’t Scott. Or Isaac. Or Boyd. Danny, hell,even Jackson would've been more fun to dorm with.

Stiles didn't think Brad was too fond of him either, to be fair. Stiles was loud and clumsy and had some… interesting hobbies.

The first time Brad walked in on Stiles mixing herbs and bits of bone into a bowl of antelope blood he had an understandable freak out. It took Stiles two weeks to convince him it was part some obscure science class he was taking and not for a secret cult he partook in during his free time, which was honestly closer to the truth.

The books on ancient demons and browser pages left open on his laptop detailing the occult definitely didn't help.

Luckily, Brad was away with his daily study group all the time, so they didn't have to share the same space too often.

Anyway, Stiles was bored. Classes were easy, assignments were either put off or finished weeks in advance, and his job at the library was enjoyable yet dull. He was just going through the motions at this point.

Or, he was until one night. Brad was gone, Stiles was sitting on his bed, Netflix was asking if he was still watching, and his bowl of popcorn was reduced to a few kernels at the bottom. Stiles was reaching for the remote when his phone started blaring “Hungry Like the Wolf”. Flailing and falling off the couch, then pretending he didn't, Stiles grabbed his phone from his nightstand and swiped at it until it stopped ringing, lifting it to his ear.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Sourwolf?”

_ “Stiles, are you alone?” _

Not even fazed by the question, Stiles was already snatching his laptop off the floor and pulling up the bestiary.

“Hit me with it, dude.”

_ “Don't call me dude.”  _ Stiles rolled his eyes and huffed out a breath.  _ “Pixies. Tons of them, all trying to claim Hale land for themselves.” _

“And what's the damage?”

_ “Isaac and Erica got hit with this blast of light and dust. It knocked them out and it's been hours. No signs of waking up.” _

Stiles frowned and threw a hand up in the air. “And why the hell am I just now hearing about it?”

Crackling silence filled his ear for a moment before Derek was reluctantly responding,  _ “We wanted to figure it out without you.” _

Stiles froze for a moment, a bewildered and slightly hurt expression making itself home on his face. “Why?”

Derek must have sensed his thoughts and rushed to explain.  _ “Not because we don't want your help, we just…” _

“You just what, Derek?”

A sigh, and then,  _ “We didn't want to bother you. And with you at college, we're going to have to figure these things out on our own.” _

A feeling of equal parts gratitude and guilt overcame Stiles, and he brought a hand up to scrub across his face. 

“Derek… I'm sorry. I know it's hard with so many of us so far away and I promise I'm coming back in a few weeks for break, but you can still always call me while I'm away, no matter what time, I'll always answer-”

_ “Stiles! That's not- No, we're not mad at you. You deserve some peace. We don't want to drag you into every little issue we have-” _

“You guys are more important than college, and if you think differently for a single second-”

Suddenly, a voice started yelling from Derek’s end of the line, shouting for them to save the conversation and hurry up.

Stiles cleared his throat. “We're finishing this conversation later, because you are sorely mistaken if you believe that-”

_ “Stiles!”  _ the voice in the background rang out again.

“Fine, fine, I'm looking.”

It took him a few minutes of sifting through the chapter on pixies, asking questions about the attack, and trying to decide which treatment was best suited to the supposed situation.

“Okay, I think I got it,” he said eventually. “Now… this may sound weird, but.. just go with it.”

Derek, ever the conversationalist, grunted from the other end.

“You're gonna need to help with this, Derek. Go to my study and into my second fridge. There should be a bowl on the top shelf with a purple lid. It's pixie blood. Yes, I know, it's weird to just have pixie blood on hand, can we continue, please? Go to the cabinet labeled ‘herbs’ and get one of the pouches that says ‘For Healing’. Mix a quarter of that pouch into a pint of the blood. Yeah, no shit it smells bad. Mix until the herbs are evenly dispersed. Done? Okay, take it back to Isaac and Erica. Now strip them to their underclothes... Just do it, okay? Dear fucking… okay, dip your fingers in the mixture and follow my directions.”

Ten minutes later, Erica and Isaac were both supposedly covered in swirls and runes of blood and herbs from head to toe. Derek complained about how Boyd wasn't helping and Stiles replied that only their alpha could make this work. 

“Okay, now you strip.”

Silence.

_ “What?” _

“I said strip! Down to your underwear.”

_ “I don't see the point in this, but-” _

Stiles could understand the confusion, so he just said, “It's all about connection, Derek.” After setting the laptop back on the floor, Stiles leaned back against his pillows, letting his eyes fall shut, trying to get as relaxed as possible. 

“Once you've taken off your shirt and pants, I want you to take a few deep breaths and close your eyes,” he said in a soothing voice. “Your body needs to be as loose as possible for this. So just listen to my voice, relax, and do exactly as I say, okay?”

Derek grunted softly.

“Dip two fingers in the bowl. Get them nice and wet, then trail them across your chest, left to right. Follow down your right side and swirl around your hip.”

Derek's breathing was coming heavily through the phone, and Stiles knew the healing magic was already drawing from his alpha power- not depleting it any, just getting a sort of charge and running down the bond between him and his injured betas.

“How does it feel, Derek?” asked Stiles, voice low and deep.

_ “It feels… intense.” _

“Good, intense is good. That means it's working.”

Stiles continued through his own heavy breathing, sensing the magic through his own link with Derek, but he never raised his voice. 

“Now, make sure your fingers are still wet, and trace them lightly down your chest and stomach, then lower, all the way down to-”

Stiles opened his eyes and abruptly cut himself off when Brad’s mortified face came into sight from across the room.

The two stared at each other in horribly awkward silence for a beat before Derek was calling for Stiles down the line.

“Um, just.. stay relaxed. Keep still for a minute, and I'll be right back, okay Derek?”

Derek grunted and let out something akin to a whine, and Stiles blushed. 

“What,” he started, rising to his feet and putting a hand over the phone so that Derek wouldn't hear, “never heard of phone sex?”

Brad’s face twisted into something even more horrified and he quickly spun around and practically ran back out of their room, slamming the door shut. 

_ Shit, how much had he heard? _

Oh well, Stiles thought as he bright the phone back up to his ear. It's not like Brad’s opinion of him could get much worse, anyway.

“Alright, big guy, where were we?”

 

* * *

 

2.

It was two days before fall break when Boyd called Stiles and told him that Derek was hurt. Not too bad, Boyd had assured, but bad enough to warrant a phone call. 

Fucking rogue hunters. Again.

That's what led to Stiles frantically packing a bag of clothes two days before he was set to, quickly emailing his professors saying he had a family emergency and wouldn't be in class the next two days, pausing to thank whatever higher being was up there that he wasn't missing any tests, and stopping right in front of the door to his dorm when a confused voice said, “Umm…”

Of course, fucking Brad. Stiles didn't have time for this. 

“Classes don't end for another two days, you know.”

“You're right,” Stiles replied, bouncing his leg. “I do know.”

Bras cocked his head to the side. “Then where are you going?”

“Back home. Family emergency.”

“Family? Is everything okay?”

Stiles understood the gesture for what it was. Brad was trying to be a good roommate, showing concern and asking questions, but if he could wait until Derek  _ wasn't  _ lying unconscious in bed with multiple wounds that weren't healing and Stiles wasn't going out if his mind with worry, that would be fucking  _ great. _

“No, actually, that's why I'm in such a rush. It's a two hour drive and Derek really needs me right now, so-”

“Derek, your boyfriend?”

“Yeah. My boyfriend.”

Brad just nodded, finally quiet, and Stiles took the opportunity to rush out the door, fly down the stairs, and jump into his car. 

He was in Beacon Hills an hour and a half later.

Stiles wasted no time with neatly parking- Derek owned the building, anyway, so no one besides Pack was ever there- before sprinting up the stairs- cursing the lack of working elevator- and throwing the loft door open. Boyd was standing just inside the door, obviously waiting for him, and he raised an eyebrow.

“It normally takes at least two hours for you to get here.”

Stiles shrugged helplessly.

Boyd sighed and turned to walk back towards the stairs, muttering, “You’re so gone.”

Stiles wasn’t even going to try to figure out what that was supposed to mean. Instead, he just followed Boyd up the spiral staircase.

The sight that greeted him was one that Stiles had hoped he would never have to see again. Derek was laid out on his bed, stripped down to his boxer briefs, covered head to toe in lacerations. Blood was still leaking sluggishly out of some of the larger wounds, and Isaac and Erica were seated on either side of him with washcloths and buckets of water, trying to clean off the red.

There was a lot of red.

Stiles felt a little lightheaded, actually.

But he would worry about that later. For now, he had to help Derek.

 

* * *

 

3.

Derek didn’t come visit Stiles often. To be fair, no one did. Not because they didn’t care enough to visit, but Beacon Hills still wasn’t perfectly peaceful and the territory needed protecting. If word got out that the local pack was taking a weekend trip, the town would be swarmed with challenging creatures within hours.

But when Stiles told Derek that there was a beta in one of his classes that was threatening him, Derek was on the road within the hour.

“Derek,” Stiles told him for the hundredth time since he’d shown up at Stiles’ dorm, “I can handle it! He’s just posturing. He smells wolves on me and thinks I’m trying to encroach on his pack’s territory. It’s nothing I can’t deal with on my own, okay?”

“You said he threatened you,” Derek growled. “I need to talk to his alpha.”

“You’re unbelievable, oh my god. Fine! We’ll go find his alpha, happy?”

Derek’s lips twitched up into a smug smile. “Very.”

The two started back to the door when it opened and Brad walked through. He paused when he saw Derek, then looked back at Stiles, back at Derek, back at Stiles.

“Oh!” Stiles exclaimed. “Brad, this is Derek; Derek, this is Brad.”

“The roommate?” asked Derek. Stiles nodded.

“The boyfriend?” asked Brad. Derek looked at Stiles, confused, as Stiles nodded once again.

“Yep! We’re actually headed out for dinner now, so I’ll see you later!” Then Stiles was grabbing Derek’s hand and pulling him out the door.

“Boyfriend?” Derek inquired once they were down the hall.

“You try explaining the phonecalls we have.”

Derek tilted his head in acquiesce. Neither mentioned that their hands were still linked between them.

 

* * *

 

4.

The meeting with the alpha did not go well.

In hindsight, they probably should have made contact before going straight to the woman’s house. How Derek even found out where she lived was beyond Stiles.

So, an alpha werewolf and his emissary showed up un-invited at an unknown alpha’s house without prior warning late at night. Understandably, the alpha thought she was under attack. Her claws were buried in Derek’s stomach before Stiles could even hold up his hands in a sign of peace.

A lot of things happened at once. Derek started growling, Stiles started panicking, and the alpha realized that they meant no threat. She removed her claws and Derek hunched over. Stiles pushed some healing magic into Derek while glaring at the alpha, shortly explaining the situation.

She looked rightfully guilty, but made a promise to talk to her beta and offered to help treat Derek’s new wound. 

Stiles had snapped “no” and then pulled Derek back to the jeep, muttering about impulsive alphas the whole way, not caring that the woman was probably still listening. She could fuck right the fuck off.

God, why couldn’t Derek catch a break?

“To be fair, you’re just as impulsive. It must be an alpha thing.”

Brad’s car wasn’t in his usual parking space when they got back to the dorms, thank god, and it was surprisingly easy getting Derek up to his room unnoticed. 

Stiles led Derek to his bed, sitting him down before dragging his first aid kit out from under his bed. Pulling off Derek’s jacket was easy, but peeling off his shirt? Not so much. They eventually got it over his head and Stiles immediately threw it in his trash can. No way was he letting Derek walk out of his dorm in that shredded scrap of fabric, crusty with dried blood. He would just have to borrow one of Stiles’.

He started by cleaning up all the blood that he could. The less blood, the easier it would be for everyone. Luckily, the flow was slowing down majorly, mostly due to Stiles healing magic, but because it was a wound from an alpha it would take longer to heal completely.

Stiles was reaching for the bandages when Derek went stock still.

“Brad,” was all he could say before Stiles heard the telltale jingle of keys right outside the door.

He didn’t even think, just swung a leg over Derek’s thighs, straddling him and hiding the wound from sight. A key was jiggling in the door and Stiles looked down, noticing the first aid kit and bloody paper towels piled on top of it. The doorknob was turning. Stiles gripped the bottom of his own shirt and yanked it over his head, quickly laying it over the suspicious items on the floor next to them.

“I’m sorry, don’t panic,” he whispered as he placed Derek’s hands on his waist and wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck.

Derek was still as a board when the door finally swung open and Brad walked inside.

Needless to say, Stiles and Derek were the first thing he noticed. As per his usual style, Brad froze.

Stiles stared at him with wide, shocked eyes, trying to sell the whole “my roommate just walked in on me and my amazingly hot boyfriend about to get down and dirty” act. In reality, Stiles could feel Derek’s breath, hot as it blew over his bare collarbone, Derek’s fingernails- still blessedly human- digging into his sides, and Derek’s blood still slowly seeping from the wound, making their skin slippery every time their stomachs brushed together.

Stiles was incredibly grossed out and even more incredibly turned on. He had the most awkward boner ever, and he was sure Derek could feel it.

Fuck his life, honestly.

Derek’s fingers twitched against his skin. Stiles felt his legs spasm with nerves. Brad didn’t move.

As the three continued to exist in the most uncomfortable plane of existence to ever exist, Stiles’ fingers moved against Derek’s neck nervously, shaking against the skin and gripping lightly at his hair. The actions didn’t even register until a particularly sharp tug made Derek inhale sharply and Stiles immediately slid his hands to Derek’s shoulders instead.

The disturbance in their awkward little world finally set Brad into motion, and his frozen, shocked body spun around and ran into the door twice before finally slipping through and pulling it shut loudly behind him.

Stiles and Derek continued to stare at the space he had occupied. Now that they were alone again, Stiles didn’t know how to handle the situation. It had been instinct before- and, honestly, what did it say about Stiles that his first instinct when protecting the secret of his supernatural acquaintances was to pretend to date them?

Well, if he wanted to get technical, that was only his solution when it came to Derek…

But he wanted to analyze that thought even less.

Eventually (unfortunately), Stiles had to address his current position. He turned his head slowly to find Derek already staring back at him, his cheeks pink under his stubble.

Stiles was sure it had nothing on his own cheeks. He could  _ feel  _ the heat.

Once again, because it needed to be repeated,  _ fuck his life. _

All of the sudden, Stiles became hyper-aware of the situation in his pants and-

And in Derek’s pants.

Oh God, Derek’s-

Oh  _ God. _

Stiles peeled his torso away from Derek’s and lifted himself to shaking feet, because there was no way this was happening, and definitely not while they were both covered in Derek’s blood.

No fucking way.

They wiped themselves off in silence and Derek left to drive back to Beacon Hills, still injured.

Stiles didn’t even have the balls to argue; he just let him leave.

He couldn’t look Brad in the eye for a week.

 

* * *

 

 

5.

Derek was an idiot.

An irritating, impulsive, overprotective, loyal, beautiful, amazing  _ idiot. _

So, the beta didn’t get the hint.

The beta threatened Stiles again.

Stiles, and his  _ idiot  _ mouth, mentioned it to Derek.

Derek, and his  _ idiot  _ alphaness, confronted the beta.

So now the Hale Pack had one more enemy. Unless Stiles could be the best of all emissaries and get them out of the situation with minimal bloodshed, which would be fucking fantastic.

God, has Stiles mentioned that his life was fucked? Because it was.

And it was all Derek’s fault.

The worst part was that Stiles couldn’t even blame him- not really- because he knew how much protecting his pack meant to Derek, and he never should have expected Derek to not do something about it.

But that didn’t mean Stiles wasn’t pissed.

God damn Derek Hale and his… everything.

Stiles barely stopped himself from slamming the door to his room shut as he rounded on Derek.

“What the actual  _ fuck  _ were you thinking?”

Derek at least had the courtesy of looking a little sheepish, but it still didn’t outweigh his stubbornness.

“I get that you think I’m just a weak human who can’t protect myself and can’t handle a few idle threats, but starting a fucking pack war? And for what? My honor? I’m not some virtuous prince in need of defending, Derek, don’t you understand that?”

Derek growled and his eyes flashed crimson. He stepped closer.

“He was threatening to rip you limb from limb-”

“Which is so much worse than threatening to rip my throat out, right?”

Derek flinched, his whole body jerking back. Stiles would’ve felt bad if he wasn’t so angry.

“I don’t need protecting, Derek Hale. In case you forgot, I can heal myself just as fast as you can. I can take care of myself.”

With his eyes downcast and his voice too quiet to hear, Derek mumbled a response.

“Hey, asswipe, I didn’t catch that.”

“I said you can’t heal yourself if you’re dead!”

Stiles threw his arms in the air and yelled, “And you can? This whole protective shit isn’t a one way street, you know!”

“I’m sorry if I don’t want someone else I love getting killed,” Derek snarled. Stiles froze.

“Someone you… you-”

“Am I interrupting something?” came a voice from the doorway. “Again?” Brad didn’t sound the least bit sorry- not that Stiles could blame him. He’d witnessed far too much in the past semester to be anything other than annoyed.

“Lover’s quarrel. It’s nothing. We’ll leave.”

Derek huffed and stalked around Stiles, past Brad, and out the door.

Stiles was left staring at where he had been seconds before, still reeling over the words Derek had said.

_ Someone else I love… _

Surely he had meant love like pack love… family love. Right? 

It was a heavy moment before Brad sighed and slung his bag back over his shoulder.

“I’ll go to a friend’s place tonight. But it’s the last time.”

Stiles absently nodded.

“... So you should probably go after him or something…”

Stiles swore and did just that, yelling a thank you to Brad as he went.

 

* * *

 

1.

Stiles analyzed pretty much every interaction he and Derek had had over the past handful of months. Handful of  _ years,  _ really, and how could he have been so oblivious?

He knew he was attracted to Derek- who wouldn’t be?- but it wasn’t until he started the whole pretend dating thing that he started to realize the emotional aspect of it.

Turned out it was a pretty damn big aspect.

He hadn’t even thought about his actions, they had all been instinct. But now that he was thinking? There was a reason he didn’t have to think about pretending to be head over heels for Derek.

Because he  _ was. _

Stiles ran through the halls, bumping into students and knocking flyers off the walls, but he didn’t care. He didn’t stop until he was face-to-face with Derek, chest heaving for air, standing right in the middle of the parking lot.

Derek looked at Stiles and Stiles looked back at Derek. When he moved forward, he didn’t think. He didn’t have to.

Derek’s lips were warm and soft and  _ perfect  _ where they met his halfway. His stubble scratched at Stiles’ mouth in the most distracting way and had his lips always been so  _ sensitive? _

He didn’t even notice when Derek started walking him backwards until his back was pressed against something cold and hard, but he paid it no mind as Derek continued to slowly take him apart with his lips and his hands and his  _ everything. _

“I love you,” Stiles said when he pulled back for air. He kissed Derek again. “I love you so much.” Another kiss. He never wanted to stop kissing Derek.

However, they were startled apart by a frustrated groan moments later.

“Okay, seriously?! I left to get away from all this, and now you’re making out on my car?”

Stiles was sure he looked like a wreck- flushed cheeks, messy hair, swollen lips, heavy breathing, not to mention the smile that just wouldn’t go away.

“Sorry, Brad. Um… The room will be all yours for the next week, I swear.”

Brad merely raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at his car, ignoring the boys as he climbed behind the wheel and drove off out of the parking lot. 

“The next week?” Derek inquired.

“Yeah, we’re getting a hotel room.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, not looking objective whatsoever, if the smile on his face was anything to go by. “And what about the pack back home?”

Stiles smirked and grabbed Derek’s hand, dragging him back to the building. “I think they can handle things without us for a few days.”

 

For the next week, Stiles couldn’t think at all. Derek made sure of that.

**Author's Note:**

> So, idk what that was or if it's any good at all, but I hope you got something out of it, nonetheless.  
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.  
> I'm planning a not-super-accurate Twilight Princess Sterek au, and I'm not sure when I'll get it done, but at least I'm not saying goodbye this time?  
> Happy holidays, if you're into that


End file.
